Aw. Grateful, am I.

Grateful, am I.

Damned good, are you. (Is it just me, or do I sound like Yoda...?)

Seriously. This is a pleasure to read and an even bigger pleasure to edit, because you are basically the anti-"yes, BUT..." writer. When you ask for specific input, it's because you want the input. You aren't looking for hairpats, you're looking for stuff to put in service to the book.

And that's what writing's about. So hell, yes, send it on, if I can be useful at all. It's a pleasure working with you, lady.

Will you know me when I come? I worried my mother and questioned my father’s path for me. I broke the laws of the land, and associated with outcasts. I condemned hypocrisy, and forgave hypocrites. I blasphemed and rebelled against the powerful. I fed the poor and passed among them.

I loved, I walked, I taught, I forgave. I put the wellbeing of the many ahead of my own..

Would you know me when I came? With my Middle Eastern features, and arms open to embrace those you have judged unworthy of mercy? Would you call me your saviour then?

That's wonderful, ita.

Is this a typo:

Would you know me when I came?

Thanks, Perkins.

Is this a typo:

Would you know me when I came?

I don't get it--what's wrong with it?

Not wrong, just an unusual use of tenses.

I like it, either way.

Not wrong, just an unusual use of tenses.

Came/went and all that can be confusing to me, but I always substitute another past tense -- Would you know me when I walked in? -- and it seems to work. If she'd started out with *will* it would be another story, I think.

Well done, ita. You are drabblicious today.

When all else fails, claim the subjunctive and then flee back to the sciences.

Well done, ita.

Thanks!

You are drabblicious today.

Something exploded in my brain.

Turns out I did have something to say. Huh.

Nothing Changes

When I was six my mother heard it all the time, “she looks just like you.” The eyes, the nose, the shape of the face etched in miniature.

When I was fourteen, they tipped my chin, “you look just like your mother.” I permed my hair so it curled like hers, I got contacts so people could see my eyes. I hated hearing that I looked like my mother.

At 48 the refrain hasn’t changed, though my hair is straight, my eyes crouch behind glass, only the echo of my mother left. It comforts me. But, does anybody know me?

These are all wonderful and amazing. What a topic! I continually marvel at the level of artistry and talent in this bunch. I learn so much from being a part of this community.

And, damn, ita. Just damn. Tears to the eye.